


This is My Body

by inkstainedwretch



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Play, F/M, Genderfuck, I can't believe I wrote this., Incest, Lestat is good at lying to himself, Sexual Surrogacy In a Weird Way, Vampire Sex, Very Private Thoughts, this probably isn't how the swoon works, vampire anatomy, what the hell is this power dynamic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 22:53:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedwretch/pseuds/inkstainedwretch
Summary: When Lestat’s blood is running in her veins, Gabrielle makes her desire for him known, and it’s everything he ever wanted, and nothing at all like he dreamed it would be.(Set during the very beginning of their time together in TVL.)





	This is My Body

My mother was not warm, was not loving or nurturing, or at least when she was, it was in her own strange way. Her words never failed to help me, but for all their sincerity, they were edged with frost. For all our understanding, she never came close enough to truly touch. She nearly never embraced me physically, but when she did…

As a young mortal boy, as a young mortal man, being close with my head rested on her shoulder, smelling her hair and perfume, feeling the soft, solid warmth of her, was the greatest happiness I ever knew. I can count every time that it happened on a single hand, a little constellation of bright burning stars in a vast and empty sky.

 _Gabrielle_. Such a magnificent name, a name I never dared to speak. Instead, it rang like church bells through my mind, while my imagination was painting such lush impossibilities across the darkness of my closed eyes. It was on the tip of my tongue, pinched tight between my teeth, as I listened to the impassioned cries of a girl my own age, a girl with hair spun of gold and deep blue eyes.

I didn’t have the strength to say it aloud until I had the strength to destroy a metal candelabra with my bare hands.

I tried, for those fleeting moments, to disguise what I had become. I did not want her to fear me, did not want to lose her to the panic that so often seizes mortals who see us for what we are. I was a fool. Gabrielle was always so wickedly intelligent, the only person who ever lived in that castle who truly understood her life, instead of merely living it.

It was the reason I never really begrudged her the distance she kept from me. When you are trapped, you must fight to escape, and you must fight alone. She hated my father, I knew she did, and she hated my brothers, and she may have even hated me, for a time. She hated every living soul in that castle, because all they did was hold her down. We had that in common, she and I, but even when I ran away at last, they still held her captive.

How wrathful she was, when she took my gift. What marvelous violence, when I kissed the thick, luscious blood from her lips, and she returned my ardor and desperation with what little life she had. I tasted her fury, and she tasted mine, and in that moment I stole her for myself, and she was free at last from her cage, and we were beautifully avenged on them all.

The word I cannot help but think of, when I think of those first few months, is _hungry_. She hungered for blood, of course, but she hungered even more for movement, for something new to see and hear and do. She hungered for change, for something that would take her away from the hollow shade she had become before her death. She hungered for me, in ways I hadn’t dared to hope for, and in every one of them I was equally as ravenous.

It was a rainy night, when I learned of this last hunger. It was near enough to sunrise that we had made our way back to the tower, but not so near that she had begun to feel the death sleep approaching. We were in the room full of riches, where the rain could not reach, sitting across from one another. She was re-braiding her hair, as the wind had caused it to tangle and loosen. I watched her, wishing fervently that she might let me help, wondering disingenuously why she couldn’t leave it loose for the remainder of the night.

I had procured her another set of clothing, electing to buy them rather than using her previous method of acquisition. Explaining to the tailor that they were to be a gift for a friend, a friend who was slight of build and absolutely could not come in for measurements, had been an effective test of my patience. It had been completed the previous day, and so early that evening I’d gone and picked it up. The frockcoat was a brilliant blue, the color of the sky after a thunderstorm, and it made her eyes look so lovely.

I’d considered having a dress made as well, but she didn’t seem to like them as much. It caused me some heartache, when I had designed such dazzling gowns for her in my mind, but I couldn’t help but appreciate the way men’s clothing suited her. Her posture now, as she sat binding the end of the braid together, was straighter, more assured than I had ever seen it when she wore skirts.

Tossing the braid over her shoulder, she regarded at me with considering eyes.

“Let me look at you,” she said. “I want to see how it changed you.”

I started. I didn’t need to ask what exactly she meant; if she had wanted to see me covered by clothing, she needn’t have said a word. I felt my heartbeat quicken, but I did as she’d asked without a word. I undressed without haste or ceremony, as though I were some mortal man readying for bed. She stood and regarded my bare skin with slow, aloof observation. After a moment, she lifted a hand and ran her fingertips over the curve of my shoulder.

“You had a mark here,” she said.

“I did,” I said. It had been berry-red, the shape of spilled wine.

She lifted my arm and examined the skin of my palm. I know it felt cold when she touched it, but my body felt so very hot.

“It’s so smooth,” she murmured, “like mine.”

“Like yours…” I said, without really thinking. She was so close, but she wasn’t near close enough.

It seemed she heard the quaver in my voice, because now she looked at my face for just a moment, and then her eyes flicked down between my legs. This was the part of me I had both anticipated and dreaded her seeing, and it was heavy with blood, blood that I could feel pulsing under the skin. It had never felt quite so insistent, before now.

“Is it always like that?” she asked, not looking at my face.

“Yes,” I said.

“It doesn’t diminish?” she asked. “Even after it’s been attended to?”

“It doesn’t.”

She dropped my hand. Her own came to my chest, sliding up until it rested on my shoulder. My heart was pounding. I felt myself shake, just a little. She was so _close_.

“When I was your mother,” she said, looking me right in the eye now, “I used to say that you were that missing part of me. You still are, I think, in some way. All the missing male parts of me, alive in you.”

“Gabrielle…” I whispered.

“I knew,” she continued, smiling softly. “From the very beginning, I knew you would be like me, another prisoner in that wretched castle. All I could do after you left was fool myself into thinking one day you’d come and take me from it.”

I couldn’t help myself. I kissed her fiercely, and the silk of her coat was unbearably soft as I wrapped my arms around her. She embraced me fully, her hands coming around to my back, and I heard the softest moan travel from her lips to mine.

“Let me see you, too,” I said, and there was a little pinch to the end of it that made it close to a question.

Her hands began to make quick work of her clothing, and I followed her, pressing adoring kisses to every newly revealed patch of skin. From her throat, down her shoulders to her chest, the gentle swell of her breasts, and further still. When she stepped out of her stockings, I was on my knees before her, and inexpressibly happy to be there.

If there was any difference in the beauty of Gabrielle the mortal and the beauty of Gabrielle the vampire, I did not really know it. The form of her body had been a mystery to me, and seeing her now, I knew that my imagination had done a terribly inadequate job. She was so soft-looking, from the stone-white thighs to the graceful arms, and I wanted to know how every inch of it felt.

In our current position, my proximity to the red, slick heat between her legs was not lost on either of us. She looked at me now like she didn’t know if she could trust me, like she was preparing for disappointment. One of her hands came to my hair, but she didn’t move me towards her, or away. She just looked at me, waiting to see if I understood.

“I will,” I said, leaning in a little closer. “I will, just give me the word.”

“Do it.”

Her voice was soft, but sure. Taking hold of the backs of her thighs, I leaned in and kissed her fully, with just as much passion as I’d kissed her mouth. My tongue opened her, and I couldn’t help the moan that left me as I tasted her blood – because it’s all blood; the vampire body has no room for anything else. Her hand tightened in my hair, and the sheer satisfaction in the way she moaned sent a hot flare of lust through me.

I watched intently as she took her pleasure on my mouth, her eyes slipping shut, her breath coming in halting gasps. My tongue traveled upward until it could slide across the little bud, and now she had both hands in my hair, holding me still. I felt her hips begin to move just a bit, the faintest swiveling motion to better press herself against me. It felt undeniably masculine, even more so as she found her rhythm, and the sounds she made grew louder. I sealed my lips around her and sucked, and with a shout, the hands in my hair tightened, then tugged.  

God, but I loved it. I loved every moment of it, how she pulsed against my mouth, how her head fell forward, how her cries sounded not just blissful, but relieved. My body was near to melting with lust, seeing her this way. Every taste of her brought with it a curl of pleasure, and even if I hadn’t been so thoroughly drunk on the sight of her, it was sufficient to drive me mad. I wanted her so badly, but even as my own body began to scream for relief, I never thought once of stopping, or even slowing down.

All at once, her nails scratched at my scalp as her hands clenched tight, and then a high gasp was my only warning before she curled forward and gave a long, shivering cry. The movement of her hips became stuttered and uneven, until she suddenly stilled so thoroughly that even her breathing ceased. Blood flowed thick on my tongue, over my lips, and I couldn’t keep from moaning against her. I didn’t look away, and I didn’t stop until she flinched away from me, taking a stumbling step back. 

Once she had regained her balance, she just looked at me for a moment, blinking a few times. Her hand came to my lips, and I leaned into her, feeling my whole body tremble with lust. Then she hauled me up, kissed me furiously, pushed me back to the wall and held me there. Her strength wasn’t sufficient to keep me down, had I any desire to push back, but feeling her pressed so close to me was something I’d only ever dreamed of.

“It doesn’t diminish,” she said with a smile. “We’re the same.”

I hardly knew what she meant, and so I kissed her again, holding to me so I could feel as much of her as possible. When she drew back, she ran a hand down my chest, and her breath left her in a quivering sigh.

Swiftly, she looked around the room, her eyes sweeping across the boxes strewn about the room until something caught her eye. She grabbed the edge of a velvet cloak and pulled, sending the jewels that had covered it flying. She lay it down on the floor in a single sweeping motion. To my surprise and delight, she took hold of my arm and pulled me down onto it, climbing atop me like Lilith triumphant. I sat up enough to meet her, and in a hot, glorious moment, she took me into herself.

It was everything I had ever wanted, and it was nothing at all like I had dreamed it would be. My hands traveled over her body, feeling every part of her, every secret I had longed to know. She pressed down hard, grinding down on me forcefully enough that I had to move one hand back to steady myself. Her mouth was on my neck, her tongue traced the edge of my jaw, and her hands clutched at my back. I didn’t move, because I couldn’t. It was all I could do to just feel her, the soft silk of her braid, the heat of her mouth, the velvet that held me tight. I could hardly breathe from the sheer ecstasy of it all.

Her hand took hold of my hair once more, tilting my head back so we faced each other. Her face was close to pained, her brows just a little bit pinched in the center. God only knew what I looked like to her, because I felt like a man being unmade.

“Have you ever been taken this way?” she whispered, and she leaned close enough that our foreheads touched.

“No,” I sighed, leaning in towards her instinctively.

It was the truth; yes, I’d been mounted by a woman before, but never with such force that I couldn’t move. I’d always wanted nothing more than to ravish her, make her shout with ecstasy. I never imagined I’d let her steal control right from my grasp, but I welcomed it like I never had before. I am weak, when it comes to Gabrielle, and I always have been.

It seemed she had something else to say, but first she took my invitation. One kiss, then two, and then she all but wrenched herself away before she forgot her words.

“Is it good?”

She breathed the words against my lips, and I couldn’t possibly resist the urge to kiss her again.

“ _Yes_ ,” I all but whimpered, and a shiver went up my spine. “God, yes.”

Both of her arms came up around my neck, and she moved faster now, her hips tilted forward to give her badly needed friction. We kissed with such need, I don’t know whose fang did it, but the side of my tongue stung with pain. She moaned at the taste of me, brought her hands to the sides of my face, and oh god, it was sweet, to know my dark angel wanted me so. I felt myself start to shake, and when she licked an escaping red drop from the corner of my lips, the moan that left me echoed from the tower walls.

I felt her squeeze me tightly, and her hand pulled viciously at my hair. Her hips pressed down harder, faster, and with the sound of her trembling breath in my ear, I felt myself start to come undone. I tried, I tried to hold off, but then I heard a soft gasp in my ear, “ _Lestat_ …”, and that was the end of it.

“Gabrielle,” I sobbed, burying my face in her neck, “god, _Gabrielle_!”

I clung to her like a drowning man as it burned through me, feeling strands of her hair brush over my neck, having escaped from the braid that was starting to unravel. The whole of me shook as best it could, with her holding me in place, and I moaned desperately into the familiar darkness of her hair.

She clenched down hard, barely a moment behind me, her nails digging into my back as she cried out. She moved in slow circles as she rode it out, squeezing so tightly with every pulse of it, it was nearly painful. I heard her heartbeat racing under my ear, heard her voice echo through her chest, and it struck me like a blow that I had done this. I had given her this pleasure. That knowledge alone was almost sweeter than all the rest of it.

She collapsed so thoroughly against me, I fell down onto my back. I held her, let her breathe, and I felt my heart begin to glow with warmth. She lifted up, separated us, and then came back down to give me a long, languid kiss. My hand came up to her hair, my fingers threading through what was left of the braid, soft and shining gold.

“I love you,” I said. “Oh, I love you, my darling Gabrielle.”

She was silent, but there was tenderness in the way her hands cradled my face, and in the soft press of her lips to mine.  

\--

It wasn’t often, even during those first few honeymoon months, that Gabrielle had her way with me. It was always her that took the initiative; she was never underneath me, nor did she put her mouth on me. When I brought up either subject, she grew bored and distant, which was the last thing I wanted. I suppose, thinking back on it, that she no longer had any interest in the things she’d endured in her mortal life.

When she wanted me, though, there was nothing better. She would hold me down, pull me to where she stood, and in the wake of her rhapsodic cries, my own release seemed like an afterthought. The only times she ever lay on her back, she had her thighs locked around my head. She used me, and we both knew it, and we both knew I was happy to be used.

Not too long before we overturned Armand’s little cult, we found ourselves a pair of thieves. They were young men still, but they wouldn’t stay young for much longer. Their minds were shot through with greed, to the point where they had begun to cut throats as well as purses. We followed them to their half-rotted house, peering in through a hole in the roof.

I could smell them from where we sat, and their blood was unbearably tempting, but Gabrielle seemed transfixed by them. Together we watched as the taller of the two, not quite as handsome as the other, took a long drink of wine, and then he pulled the other into a heated kiss.

Gabrielle’s eyes brightened, and she watched them with interest. They began to unfasten their clothing, the shorter one pressing quick little kisses to the other’s neck. I was sure she would watch them for the next age, if she could, it was too close to sunrise for my liking. I jumped down first, swept in through the door, and she followed, and we fed.

It wasn’t until late the next night, after we had fed and were lying together in the tower, that she mentioned them again.

“What is it like?” she asked, looking at me with a lifted brow. “To be with another man, I mean. How is it done?”

“There are quite a few ways to do it,” I said, giving a sort of shrug.

“Tell me how,” she said, sitting upright. “What did you like best?”

Her fingers began to work the fastenings of my clothing, quickly pushing the fabric open. I sat up enough to help her with it, setting my coat and my shirt aside, and I thought of how best to explain it all.

A short conversation later – one that I won’t bore you with – she had me fully unclothed and lying on my back. Seated beside me, she examined me the way she had done so many times already. Her hands ran slowly across my shoulders, my chest, down to my legs, and then up again. Suddenly, she removed her coat, rolled up her sleeves, and I felt a rush of anticipation.

She looked down at her hand for a moment, considering, and then I watched her drag the better part of her tongue across her fang before lifting her hand to her mouth. I shivered, my eyes going a bit wide at the idea of what she was about to do. Everything she had done, since I’d brought her into the night, had never failed to surprise me, but this was another world entirely.

“God, you’re actually…” I murmured in awe.

Evidently, that was the wrong thing to say, because she looked at me with some confusion.

“Do you not want me to do it?” she asked.

“No,” I shook my head quickly. “No, I want you to.”

She nodded slowly, and then I watched her hand, shiny with blood, move slowly down and out of my sight. I knew exactly what she was about to do, and yet I still wasn’t ready for it when her fingertip breached me, cold skin and hot blood. I gasped, and my eyes pinched shut, so I looked at nothing but black while she slid into me. The second one followed immediately, which wasn’t what I had meant when I’d described this to her, but her hands were small enough that it wasn’t unpleasant.

I opened my eyes to see her focused on the task at hand. The shirt was large on her, its shape concealing the contour of her breasts, and with her braid hidden behind her, I found myself in the company of a young man I didn’t recognize. Then she looked up at my face again, and her fingers began to move, slow curling motions that very quickly found what they were looking for. I gave a shout, and I heard her laugh softly.

“Not so different, after all,” she murmured.

I hardly knew what to think. Not once had I ever known so intimately the touch of a woman’s hand. Her fingers were so long, but they were soft and slender, and the way they _curled_ … My back lifted, tilting my hips to meet her, and the pressure it got me sent warm waves of pleasure up my body. I had never dreamed Gabrielle would touch me this way, a theme that characterized nearly everything she had done to me. Outside in the night, I was the instructor, the guiding hand, but when she touched me, I was lost to her.

“Have you ever done this to yourself?” she asked softly, as though I were in any position to answer.

“Yes,” I said after a moment, my head rolling to the side as I gazed up at her.

With her free hand, she lifted one of mine so she could see it.

“Show me which ones,” she said.

I set the middle two fingers together and curled them forward, and she laughed again.

“The same way I did,” she brought my hand to her mouth and kissed it. “Perhaps we complete each other.”

I didn’t have the slightest idea what she meant by that, but it didn’t matter. The next moment, she bit down onto my wrist and began to drink, which sent another strike of bliss through me. Her hand sped up, and she made a sound of surprise against my skin, followed by one of lust. I realized then that she could taste my pleasure as she drank, the same way I felt such bliss when I gave her my mouth. The idea of it made me shudder. We were a closed loop, a current of lust that only grew stronger.

“ _Oh_ ,” my back lifted up, my eyes couldn’t help but close, “oh, don’t stop…”

As if she would. She drank greedily, never slowing in her movements, and I knew she was doing this for her own pleasure at least as much as for my own. It was too much, and it wasn’t enough, and I wanted more, I wanted more, I wanted _more_.

In a great burst, it consumed me completely, and I twisted violently toward her with a choked sort of scream. God, it was agony, it was heaven, to have her shatter me with such heartless curiosity. The sound she made was hardly muffled by my wrist, and then her hand slowed just a little. She drew it out, had me breathless and halfway to tears by the time she let me go.

I opened my eyes to see her shaking, letting go of my wrist and licking the blood from her lips. She shed her clothing quickly, the young man morphing into my Gabrielle in mere moments, and all the while she kept her eyes on me. I had never wanted her more, in that moment, but I was pinned down by her gaze. It was like the fire of the forge, the way she looked at me. I had never doubted the sincerity of her lust, but this may have been the first time since her death that I knew for sure she desired _me_.

All at once, she pounced. She slid on top of me, kissed me roughly, and then to my complete shock, she turned us over. I was stunned. She’d never done this, never seemed anything but dismissive of the very idea. Nevertheless, here she was, gold braid falling above one shoulder, tongue and teeth stained red, pulling me down to her like something out of my most outlandish dreams.

“I want to feel it,” she hissed through her teeth, yanking me down into another kiss.

Who was I to refuse? Without hesitation, I slid into her, and the very instant my hips met hers, she released my mouth. She took hold of my hand, brought it down between us so I could touch her where she needed it most, and then without a word, she sank her teeth into my neck. By now I understood perfectly what it all meant, her desire to feel through me. She had only ever touched me for her own pleasure, but this was a gift no one else could ever give her.

She held me tightly to her, so there was hardly room for me to wind those tight little circles just above where we were joined. I kissed her throat, felt on my cheek the wispy strands of hair too short to braid, and the smell of her blood was too much to resist. I hardly thought about what I was doing when I bit down, and then suddenly I couldn’t think at all.

With the rush of blood came a sudden expansion of feeling, of thought and emotion like I had never felt before. I knew her thoughts, but more than that, I knew her body, and she knew mine just as thoroughly. The absolute joy that shot through her was dizzying; she had tasted my pleasure before, but she hadn’t been able to _feel_ it like this, hadn’t known it for her own.

Just the same, I knew what she felt, what my touch did to her, and oh, there is nothing that could hope to surpass it. Certainly, it was novel to feel what it was like to be a woman in bliss, filled in a way I can’t quite describe, so much sensation radiating from such a small part of her. But this was Gabrielle, and her body and heart were both singing under my touch. Wound up with the elation at this new discovery was a fresh and tender sort of love, because she loved me after all. She loved that I had come back for her, loved that I had given her all of these dark and wondrous gifts.

Would it be arrogance, to say that no other lover she ever took could give her what I can?

Her legs came up around me, and I felt her squeeze me tightly. I gasped, and so did she. I could feel she was close, and I wanted to feel it take her, wanted to tip the scales and hear her scream. As soon as the thought entered my mind, I felt a faint sting of desperation from her. She wanted to feel me unwind, wanted to know what it felt like, because I was part of her now in ways I never could have been before. I was a part of her that she treasured, that she desired fiercely, and because she knew me so completely, she knew what would make me lose control.

Desire bloomed in her, lush and carnal, simple and honest. She wanted me, she found me beautiful, she loved how I made her feel. She loved the soft curls of my hair between her fingers, my tongue as it lapped at her throat, the press of my body against hers. She wanted more, my Gabrielle, my dark angel, she wanted me so fiercely–

It was like sunlight, the way bliss burned through me. The whole of me shook, my breath left me in anguished sobs, and it was far too soon, and it was utter perfection. There was a glow of victory in these flames, one that shone even brighter when I felt her follow me. Her cries of bliss at my neck punctuated each wave of it, again and again as she pressed at me from all sides. I tasted such rapture in her blood, flowing like a deep river through her very core, and I had caused it, I had given this to her. Oh, it was so sweet, it was so right, it felt so excruciatingly good, to know that she was mine.

When at last our agony was complete, she lifted me from her throat and kissed me savagely. She was still so hungry, perhaps even more so than I was, and I knew then that we would not leave this spot until sleep came for us.

“My Lestat,” she smiled, her lips glistening red. “You wondrous thing.”

My heart was fit to burst. I did not know, as I kissed her again, just how precious this little fragment of time really was. I did not know how quickly I would lose her, and then how little time it would be until she left me. Lying there in her arms, all I knew was that I loved her more than words can say, and that I could at last say with certainty that beneath her cool detachment, she loved me.

She pulled back, chest falling sharply with every exhale, and looked at me with burning eyes. One of her hands moved down to my own at her hip, having moved only enough so as not to touch anything too sensitive. Her fingers guided me gently back inward.

“Do that again,” she said, and her words struck me like lightning.

I looked at her with a loving gaze and a predatory grin.

“As many times as you wish.”


End file.
